The Color Of Betrayal: A Boy Named Riven
by ladynightsky
Summary: AU, slight OOC. We all know who Riven is on the show, but what’s his story? His history? Who were his parents? His first love? Where did he grow up? The history of Riven.
1. Of Handshakes and Confusion

**The Color Of Betrayal: The Story Of A Boy Named Riven**

By: LadyNightSky

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Summary: AU, slight OOC. We all know that who Riven is on the show, but what's his story? His history? Who were his parents? His first love? Where did he grow up? The history of Riven

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**A/N: One day I just got sick of not knowing exactly what happened to Riven that made him so surly. Rated T for expletives and "mature content." READ AND REVIEW!**

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Disclaimer: If Winx Club were mine, Riven would have his whole history played out. Since it's not, I settled for the next best thing: writing his history out. Point is, I don't own, nor do I claim to own, Winx Club.

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Chapter One: Of Handshakes and Confusion

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**January 14, 1994; Realm of Olympas; Royal Palace**

"Riven! Riven!"

Riven turned around just as Reya launched herself at him, pushing him back onto the cold stone floor of the castle.

"Gerroff me!!! Rey, gerroff!" he yelled as she continued hugging him. She stopped, and looked up at Riven, her huge violet eyes puzzled, golden curls flying out of her usual neat braid.

"But big brother, I haven't seen you in-"

"I'm seven now Reya, too old for hugs. I'll have to shake your hand instead." he said, and air of importance lingering about his tone, jumping up from the floor with as much grace as he could muster.

Riven stuck out his hand, and Reya looked at him questioningly.

He sighed. "You shake it, Reya. Honestly, you're such a little girl."

Reya grabbed his hand, then pouted.

"I am NOT little! I'm five and a half now!" she retorted hotly.

He rolled his eyes, enjoying the part of older brother immensely.

Just as he opened his mouth to argue back, a tall figure swept around the corner and gathered him into a suffocating hug.

"Mama!!! I'm too old, don't-"

"Nonsense, Riven! No one is ever too old for hugs." his mother said with her wide, sparkling grin, though this smile seemed kind of strange to Riven, with none of its usual lightness and laughter. She stood up, straightening her emerald green, silky robes.

Duchess Anaxandra of Tremreal was a striking woman, with the large, violet eyes that Riven and Reya had inherited, and waist-length, wavy blonde hair. She was tall and slim, with a dainty face and a witty manner. As the Queen Tara's Lady-in-Waiting and a Duchess in her own right, the only woman in the realm that outranked her was the Queen herself.

Reya was the spitting image of her, and even her personality took after her mother's. Both were rather coy and mischievous, and knew how to get exactly what they wanted. They were social butterflies that laughed louder and smiled wider than anyone else.

Riven, on the other hand, was nearly always serious. He was rather introverted, and preferred horses and swords to socializing, even at his young age. His hair was violet color that nearly matched his eyes, which the Duchess attributed to one of her grandfathers generations ago, who had also passed on his unique hair color to the Duchess's distant cousin, King Fatalis of Olympas, husband of Queen Tara.

Reya and Rivens' father, the Duke of Tremreal, was outshined by his wife most of the time. He was shy and retiring, though his handsome face and fabulous riches had attracted many woman friends besides his wife. These ladies would pout and fawn over him until he made his escape to his library.

He was a kind, gentle father to both of his children, though Riven sometimes was secretly disgusted with him. The Duke didn't ride or hunt or fence, which in Riven's opinion, even though he loved his father, made him soft.

A few weeks before, Queen Tara had commanded that Duchess Anaxandra and her daughter come with her to her summer retreat.

They had just recently returned that day, and the moment Reya's feet hit the castle grounds, she'd gone in search of her beloved older brother.

Now, Riven brushed himself off fruitlessly, trying to get his mother's feminine perfumey smell off of himself. Before he finished, his mother grabbed his arm with an uncharacteristically rough gesture, briskly seizing Reya with her other hand.

"Come, dears, the Queen has demanded that we go see her. All three of us. Together." she said.

Again, Riven detected something off about her. She was acting like that time she'd had a fight with his papa and chugged down an entire bottle of that purplish stuff that smelled funny and that his parents said made you "intoxicated".

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They walked along hallway after silent hallway. The castle was still and musky, and Riven found it highly unsettling. There was _no one_ in the halls. No guards, no ladies, no noblemen, _no one_. The castle was usually bustling and crowded, but now it was silent as a tomb, as if it were holding its breath in preparation for something dreadful yet to come.

Anaxandra stopped Riven and Reya in front of a large, imperious oak door with a massive doorknob in the shape of a snarling tiger, its fur on end and its magnificent teeth bared. Reya shrunk back into her mother's skirts, frightened. Riven gripped tighter onto his Mama's hand, wondering what they were doing in this part of the palace. He'd never been near this door before, obeying his father's command to never come near any of the doors with knobs in the shape of tigers, the official Seal of Olympas.

He heard his mother take a deep breath, then release it in a whoosh of air, briefly releasing Riven to adjust her emerald gown before grasping her son's hand once again.

Raising her head high, chin up, shoulders back, she called out in a clear voice, "Duchess Anaxandra of Tremreal, Lady-in-Waiting to Queen Tara of Olympas, daughter to Duke Lorenge of Municpul, requests entrance."

The doors quivered slightly, as if thinking, then slowly creaked open to reveal a cavernous chamber.

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Riven gazed about in wonder and fear as his mother led him into the room. Paneled entirely in golden wood, with eight diamond chandeliers hanging from the vaulted ceiling, the room was arranged in a circle. Rows and rows of wooden seats encircled a lone desk in the very center of the room. Balconies filled with chairs extended halfway up the room's walls. Every single seat was filled, and everyone Riven knew, from the stable boys to the King of Olympas himself, was there.

He spotted his father near the center of the room, and silently asked him what was going on. The Duke didn't meet his eyes, instead focusing resolutely on a square of blank wall across the room.

Riven looked up at the balconies, and saw ladies whispering to each other behind their sheer fans, and noblemen with their heads together, murmuring. A few caught him looking, and glared coldly at him. Ashamed, Riven was about to look down when a familiar hairdo came into sight.

Lady Sanni, she was called. She wore her powdered white hair up in a beehive, and was as unpleasant to look at as bread dough, which she pretty much resembled. Sickly pale and fleshy, her facial features were deep-set and much too small. A large mole had taken up residence on her left cheek, and she wore an uncomfortably tight neon-yellow gown embellished with "too much lace and not enough taste", as Mama would say, every time she frowned at Lady Sanni in private disapproval.

The one thing Riven remembered most about her was her squealing, unnaturally high, girlish voice. He thought back to a few days ago, when Reya and Mama had still been gone. He'd been playing soccer when he accidentally kicked the ball into the woods surrounding the palace. Running into a thicket of trees to fish it out, Riven had come across an air vent from which female voices had floated out. Intrigued, he'd crept closer, and knelt on the ground, listening to the Ladies, and had recognized Lady Sanni's voice.

"…the poor, poor Duke. I always said that wench was a slut, haven't I? I bet that brat Riven of hers is the King's bastard, be hanged if he's not. Poor Majesty! That whore probably used a Seduction Potion on him too! The Duke now, I believe he's always known. I'll be sure to comfort him when the ho is shown for who she is." Lady Sanni had simpered, a satisfied tone to her high, grating voice.

"Now, now, Sanni, I'm sure Anaxandra will have a fair trial." another Lady had responded.

The high voice had snorted, then had said, "Don't be a fool. The Queen is furious already. I wouldn't be surprised if that bitch is banished. One of us will take her place as head Lady to the Queen, I wager."

Riven had stopped listening after that. He hadn't understood everything the Ladies had said, but he knew enough to guess that they weren't being very nice to his Mama. He'd silently grabbed his ball and slipped back to the castle, forgetting about the soccer game completely.

Riven was brought back to the present when a round, stern-faced man sitting in the very front row, next to Queen Tara, cleared his throat importantly and stood up. Riven saw his mother frown at the little man.

"Ladies and gentleman, all rise in the presence of His Majesty King Fatalis III of Olympas and Her Majesty Queen Tara of Olympas." the man called out.

Everyone in the room rose simultaneously, bowing or curtsying in the general direction of the still-seated rulers of Olympas. Reya and Riven did so, but their Mama merely raised her chin up higher. Riven was about to ask her why she did not curtsy when the Queen suddenly turned her head and sent an acidic glare at Anaxandra. The entire populace of the room turned to glare too, but Anaxandra still did not bend.

The King, seemingly oblivious, nodded his head, and the air of the room immediately relaxed as everyone resumed their seats in a great scraping of chairs.

The man continued. "We are gathered here on this fourteenth day of the first month of the year nineteen-hundred-and-ninety-four to pass judgment on the Duchess Anaxandra of Tremreal in the case of Lord Riven's, current heir to Tremreal, fraternal parent. This case has been ordered by Her Majesty Queen Tara, who thus states that Her Grace the Duchess used a potion to intentionally seduce His Majesty King Fatalis, from whose induced union with the Duchess was produced Lord Riven."

Here the man paused, allowing for the appropriate gasps and whispers to break out among the assembled nobility and servants. When the crowd calmed down, he continued.

"Her Majesty suggests that, if found guilty of using a potion to seduce the King, Her Grace the Duchess should be executed by the means of hanging, and should die known as a harlot and a scarlet woman, a common whore not worthy of her title, which should be stripped from her."

A sharp intake of breath came from Riven's mother, and he looked at her in panic and confusion. He had only truly understood the part about her dying, and he didn't like what he heard.

"Let the trial begin!"

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**A/N: Sooo…? Did you like/hate? Drop me a review.**


	2. Of Stares and Spilt Blood

**The Color of Betrayal: The Story of a Boy Named Riven**

By: LadyNightSky

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**A/N: Hello, my dears :) A lot of you guys are upset because Riven's mom abandons him for money in canon, and in this fic, she might be sentenced to death. To that, I say _attendre et voir_, or _wait and see_. I just love surprises, don't you? xD**

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Disclaimer: Don't own it, though I do wish I owned Angst!Riven, he's just so awesome :)

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Chapter Two: Of Stares and Spilt Blood

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**January 14, 1994; Olympas Grand Courtroom**

"Lead Lord Riven and Lady Reya to the desk and take a seat, please, Your Grace." the man pronounced soberly.

Riven hurried along by his mother's side; she was walking much too fast for his short legs. He held Reya's hand now, and he could feel the fear welling up in his little sister. He clenched a chubby fist, and vowed to himself that he'd kill anyone who hurt his Mama or Reya.

His mother gestured roughly for him to take a seat behind the long, mahogany desk, and he did so, pulling Reya up carefully on the seat next to him. Anaxandra sat well away from Riven, suddenly behaving as if her son had the plague.

Rather hurt, Riven clutched Reya's quivering hand, and concentrated on counting the wooden grains on the desk, trying to ignore the stares of everyone in the room.

The man who'd told Anaxandra to sit sat down himself, and another man stood up, this one tall and gray, looking a bit like a hound with his droopy eyelids and sad expression.

In a halting, soft, creaky voice, he proclaimed, "This trial shall proceed in the most straightforward manner possible. No one shall speak unless called upon by the Court. Evidence will be gathered before the very eyes of the witnesses present, and will therefore be irrefutable by anyone, including Their Majesties the King and Queen of Olympas." The man stopped for a moment, leveling a stern gaze around the room, seeking the silent assent of everyone to what he had said. Satisfied, he continued on a moment later.

"The first order of business is the process of proving that His Majesty King Fatalis is indeed the father of Lord Riven. If His Majesty's paternal suit is proved false, then the court shall adjourn, as no accusations shall hold on Her Grace Lady Anaxandra's presumed seduction of His Majesty.

The process itself is simple: We shall call in two Healers, and they shall take one blood sample each from His Majesty, Her Grace Lady Anaxandra, His Grace the Duke, Lord Riven, and lastly Lady Reya."

_Blood?!? _Riven thought in alarm. Blood was never good; usually it meant a significant amount of pain and dizziness, like the time he'd gotten cuts falling off Cassandra, his horse.

Two men garbed in charcoal gray robes with hoods shadowing their faces were suddenly standing by Riven, close enough that he could hear their breathing, see their pallid eyes glowing with something that didn't sit well at all with him. Reya shrank back from them instinctively, something about them frightening her. Riven felt it too, but sat up straighter in his chair, staring at them defiantly like his mother had glared but a few minutes ago.

An unnaturally cold, clammy hand shot out from beneath one of the men's robes, and gripped Riven painfully on the shoulder. He bit on his lip to keep from crying out; he wouldn't allow everyone he'd ever known see him acting like a baby. The man holding him pulled out a small dagger, and held it inches from Riven's cloth-encased arm. The hound-man nodded slightly, and without warning, the man in gray swiftly slit Riven's arm from the outside of his shoulder to the inside of his elbow.

Too stunned to cry out, Riven watched in suspended horror as his sleeve fell away into neat halves. A thin, long cut was revealed, winding around Riven's arm like a scarlet snake as blood dripped to its sides and collected in a small puddle in the crook of his elbow. The man in gray roughly raised Riven's arm, and dipped a small canister into the pool of red liquid, collecting the substance that gave a little boy life as calmly as if he were catching a butterfly on a midsummer's day. He then let go of Riven, who felt an immense quantity of relief, and advanced on Reya. The little girl sank down into her chair, her violet eyes huge with fear and anticipation.

The man in gray grabbed her arm too, but before he could raise his dagger, Riven had thrown himself at his back, furious at the fact that this man would even _dare_ to lay a hand on his baby sister. The man was surprised, and staggered a bit, but Riven wasn't heavy enough to knock him over. The assembled persons held their breaths as every pair of eyes swiveled to stare at Riven, fallen on the ground, as if he had just committed a major faux pas. The Queen turned her acidic stare on the violet-haired boy, and the King watched with a strange expression on his face. With one finger, the Queen beckoned to the hound-man, and whispered in his ear. He nodded, went back to his own chair, and cleared his throat loudly.

The hall, which had erupted in whispers, quieted eerily quickly, and every mind was fixated on the man with the drooping eyelids.

"The Court has come to the decision that, since Lord Riven has no control over his actions, he should be at once evicted from the proceedings and made to be quiet in his room until the Court has further deliberated and the case has come to a close," he droned. "Of course, this is for the young lord's own good, as this much excitement is not beneficial his genteel constitution, and-,"

Riven sprang up from his disgruntled position on the ground, anger reddening his cheeks. He opened his mouth to protest being banned, but before he could say anything, two guards had forcibly carried him from the hall. Every eye in the crowd set upon him as he was brought to the door. He twisted around and pummeled his captors with his fists, but it was no use; the men were human fortresses in breadth. As the doors closed behind the guards, he saw Reya rise from her seat, one hand held out as if to reach for him, her wide eyes starting to shine with tears. He tried to call out for her, but his voice died in his throat as he watched in horror and fury as the man in charcoal gray grabbed her arm, and sliced it open.

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Riven sat on the edge of his velvet bed, staring at the rich crimson wallpaper opposite him. He'd been rudely dropped off into his room, and one guard had stayed outside his door to make sure that he wouldn't leave. They had taken away his swords, his toys, everything that might bring him a distraction to the agony of waiting for what would happen next. He had the strange sensation of being in a dream, his world clouded and foggy. He didn't know how long he'd sat here, unmoving, staring at the wallpaper. He guessed about four hours, but he had never been good at telling how much time had passed. He remembered Mama yelling at him once for being out alone in the woods after dark. Of course, he hadn't even realized how late it had gotten…

It hurt to think about Mama. All those people in that horrid room had stared at her as if she were a piece of dirt. Those people had always fawned over her, flattering her, sucking up. Until today. And then she'd refused to touch Riven in that room! He was still shaken, unsure what to make of his Mama.

And so he stared at the wallpaper. As soon as he could talk to Mama, he vowed to himself, he would tell her she needed to have the servants change his wallpaper. The red color reminded him of blood. He would tell her that he wanted blue wallpaper, blue with pictures of swords printed on it. He ignored the fluttery feeling in his stomach, the feeling that told him that he might not get the chance to talk to Mama anytime soon.

The windows in his room revealed a sun shattering on the distant horizon, setting in fiery splendor over the tops of the pine trees in the forest and the points of the castle turrets, painting the outside world a dull orange color. Riven wondered distantly whether the sun was more fiery today than it had been yesterday. It was certainly the most spectacular sunset he remembered ever seeing.

He switched his attention from the wallpaper to the scene his window revealed, staring at the magnificent ball of fire rapidly disappearing now. Usually, he spent sunset sitting beneath a tree bouncing his ball, recovering from the hard run from his favorite play spot in the forest to the castle, needing to get back to Mama before dark.

Eventually, the world was cast in dark shadows as the sun went over the rim completely. Riven continued to stare at the spot where the sun had been, seemingly oblivious to the fact that it was now gone. The first few stars flared and shone against a backdrop of the inky black sky, and still, he stared.

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The guard poked his head back into the room to make sure the Young Lord was still there, and found himself feeling sorry for the young boy staring out the window with complete fixation. It wasn't the boy's fault his mother was quite the slut. He shouldn't have to suffer the shame and condemnation that he would invariably have to go through after his mother was convicted. Not to mention the pain of losing a mother. The guard himself had lost his mother too, and it had been the worse thing that had ever happened to him.

The guard softly shut the door, his eyes soft, and left Riven to his musings. Straightening up, he adopted a sterner expression, and gripped his weapons tightly once more. If the rumors about the Duchess and her people proved true, he would need his swords more than anything tonight.

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**A/N: Rumors?!? What rumors?!? You shall find out….IN THE NEXT CHAPPY!!! For now, send me a comment, yeah:)**


	3. Of Rumors and Bastards

**The Color of Betrayal: Story of a Boy Named Riven**

By: LadyNightSky

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**A/N: I'm a little disappointed no one has picked up on the hints I've been dropping yet ): . There are some pretty important parts I thought I should repeat here… "Anaxandra sat well away from Riven, suddenly behaving as if her son had the plague." Why would Anaxandra sit away from Riven? Maybe because she blames him for what might be her death sentence? And if she blamed him, how would that affect their relationship? Remember, Riven's just a young child with complete trust in his mother. If his mother suddenly gave him a good reason to hate her, how would that affect him? Perhaps he would be embittered? xD Just some things you should ponder. And thanks so much for the reviews, guys :)**

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Disclaimer: Don't own Winx Club.

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Chapter Three: Of Rumors and Bastards

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**January 15, 1994; Riven's Room; Olympas Royal Palace **

A shadow crept close to Riven's bed, slinking along in the darkness. Sliding up beside the little boy's sleeping form, it bent over him.

"Boy!" it hissed. "Riven!"

Riven sat up with a start, blinking the sleep blearily from his eyes.

"Who's there?" he asked in thick, drowsy voice, rubbing his fists over his eyes. He blinked again, but couldn't make out anything in the inky darkness of his room. A small wedge of panic drove itself into his heart, and he tensed, trying to clear the last cobwebs of drowsiness from his mind.

"Who I am is not important," the voice hissed again. "All that you need to know right now is that your life is in danger, and I am here to help you. Get out of bed and get dressed."

"B-But, what about Reya? And Mama? What happened to Mama?" Riven despised his voice for quivering.

"Not here, boy. All shall be revealed in time. Hurry now! That guard won't be unconscious forever."

_Unconcious?!? _The word set off warning bells in Riven's head. He had been taught to never trust anyone beyond family, especially strangers; they might be taking advantage of either him, his money, or both.

"Boy! I said I don't have the time!" the voice was impatient and annoyed now.

"I'm not going anywhere! I-,"

"BOY!" the voice was angry. "Your mother sent me. Hurry it up!!!"

"But Mama is in the court-,"

"Her trial's been over for hours. She sent me to you, though I have no idea why. In my opinion, she should leave you here. A child with us would only serve as a hindrance and an annoyance once we leave."

_LEAVE?!? _Riven scrambled out of bed. His Mama wouldn't go anywhere without him, and if he didn't hurry, she'd be angry when she was kept waiting.

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As soon as Riven was dressed, the figure to whom the voice belonged grabbed him and led him quickly through the ajar door of Riven's room. He spotted the guard lying slumped against the wall, and hastily turned his eyes away, telling himself firmly that his Mama would never have told the figure to hurt the guard if there wasn't a good reason. Why, the guard was probably a bad guy.

The hallway was silent and chilly, Riven's and the figure's footsteps echoing conspicuously in the deathly quiet. Riven was still tired, and trudged his feet, taking no particular notice of where he was being led until he spotted the familiar underground corridor that led directly to the stables from the palace. He was about to ask why Mama would be in the stables, a place she hated with a passion, when the figure gave a jerky, sudden movement, and pushed Riven against the wall, clasping a hand tightly against the boy's mouth. Riven struggled, but the figure's hold was firm.

A guard swept by, muttering blearily to himself, and walked past where Riven and the figure stood without a sideways glance.

As soon as the guard rounded the corner, the figure let go of Riven, who knew better then to say anything. The turned down the corridor, and walked along until Riven began to smell the faint aroma of freshly cut hay and soaped leather. He breathed it in deeply, and it calmed his frayed nerves a little, giving the dark night a sense of comfort and normality.

They approached the twin wooden doors that would lead into the stables, and the figure pressed a hand to them. After a few moments, the doors slid open with a quiet creak. Bewildered, Riven stopped in his tracks. The doors operated on a system of magical identity, which everyone in the dimension had. It was what made each person unique. Riven knew for a fact that there were very few people the doors opened for, mainly the overseers of the stables, the horse grooms, and a few select nobles. He himself could not get into the stables unless he got someone with clearance to open the wooden doors for him. Most of the time he ordered the grooms, some of which he had secretly befriended, to open the barriers.

All this added up to the fact that the figure must be someone that either worked for the King as a horse groom, or the figure was a noble. Riven couldn't imagine his Mama associating with anyone that worked at horses for a living, so he assumed the figure was a noble. His eyes narrowed.

Most of the nobles he didn't like, preferring to associate with the servants, who were much more honest and much less snobbish, which made him quite a scandal indeed for his Mama. The noble ladies had all reprimanded him at one time or another, saying that it didn't befit his station in life to go gallivanting among the 'common filth'.

The figure was growing impatient. "Well, boy, we can't stand out here all night. Get inside the stables. From what I've heard, you know the place well enough." the voice sneered.

Riven reluctantly moved into the warm, muggy stables. The figure closed the doors behind him, and led him down the main aisle. Riven could hear the snorts of the sleeping horses, the jingles of harnesses, and some animal munching. The smell of manure and straw permeated the air, but Riven paid it no mind, having grown accustomed to it from all his wanderings among the stables.

They turned into the last stall on the right, which was empty. Riven was about to ask what they were doing when a cloaked woman slid out from the shadows of the stable.

He recognized the stately gait, and the flashes of shiny blonde hair.

"Mama!" he cried. The figure immediately clapped his hand over Riven's mouth again. He struggled violently against the tight hold, muffled sounds escaping him.

"Shut _up_."

Riven stopped moving, his eyes wide. His Mama had never spoken to him that harshly before. She threw back her hood imperiously, and he could see that she was dressed all in black underneath the cape. She wore neither adornment nor jewelry, which was strange for her. It was like she was a completely different person. Her eyes glittered coldly at him, warning him not to say anything, then moved to the figure.

"Claudio?" she asked, her voice suddenly soft and breathy. She moved forward, laying a hand on Riven's captor's arm. Riven felt the man suddenly relax. He let go of Riven as if he were a deathly disease, and moved closer to Riven's Mama. Riven, wide eyed, wondered what in the world was happening.

The figure threw back his own hood, and Riven recognized him as the King's Superior General, the advisor of all of Olympas' armies. He was a noble indeed, a fierce, cruel, cunning man that valued strength and submission much more than he should. Riven shrank back against the wall of the stable, watching the General and his mother draw closer and begin murmuring to each other, seemingly not aware that Riven could hear every word being said.

"Ah, my dear, we shall leave soon, and begin a happy life together. Your loveliness bewitches me, my lady, and with you I shall be the happiest man in the universe. The Queen is merely a spiteful old hag that is jealous of your indescribable beauty, and I have no qualms about betraying the King my sovereign for you. " The General's voice was sleek and syrupy, and it sickened Riven to his stomach. He might not know much else, but he knew the General was besotted with his mother; he had hard that same voice used by the courtiers that constantly paid his Mama attention.

Lady Anaxandra merely reached out one small white hand, and traced the General's face. "I am very thankful, milord." she spoke in the same breathy voice.

The General spoke again, but this time his voice was whiny and asinine. "But, my dove, what of you? Are you willing to give up your riches and your husband? I, who have traded everything for your love, would like to hear that you too have sacrificed much for me."

To this, Riven nearly snorted in disbelief. His Mama would never trade in her riches for anything, and he was confident that she would never leave his Papa; the loved each other and him and Reya too much.

Indeed, when Lady Anaxandra answered, the contempt in her voice was ill concealed, though the General, besotted as he was, didn't catch anything.

"Of course, I would trade in everything for your love. You are my hero, my strong brave warrior," she said. Riven could hear the transparent lie in her tone, and suddenly wondered why she was doing this. And why was she out here anyways? He was about to speak up when his Mama continued.

"My husband is nothing compared to you. Where you are like a lion, he is a mere meek mouse."

The General puffed up in pride at this, but Riven suddenly felt like he was going to be sick. _This couldn't be happening. _He could tell his Mama was telling the truth this time.

"But your son! What are we doing with him? He should be left-," the General began.

"Hush, my warrior." Lady Anaxandra's voice was silken again. "If anything should…er…_happen, _my fool of a husband would be too soft-hearted to risk the boy. The King would never allow anything to happen to his blood, even an illegitimate son. You see, the boy is our passage to safety. The bastard prince of Olympas would not be allowed to come to harm if the King remains King, and therein lies his value to us."

After a moment, the General chuckled. "What a cunning little swan you are, my dear. What intelligence! What beauty!"

To this, Lady Anaxandra gave a slow, gleaming smile.

Riven watched in dawning horror and nausea as the General and his mother kissed. Was he nothing more to her than that? For the first time in his life, Riven felt genuine anger. A few days ago, he would've tried to kill anyone who had spoken a word against his Mama. But now, he felt the urge to scream, to stare into those cold eyes and spit.

And then, a realization hit him. His Papa wasn't his papa. The Duke probably wasn't Reya's papa either. And he really was a bastard, and extra, someone not wanted any longer, except for wrong means.

And the rumors about his mother had been true. He had refused to believe them before, but now he recalled them with a sickening sense of truth.

_The Duchess quickly charms men, but she ruins them quicker…_

_There is nothing a man wouldn't do for that minx…_

_They'd die for her, fight for her, and be proud to do it. They'd become traitors for her._

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**A/N: Whew. Yeah, Riven's incredibly mature for a seven-year-old, but he always struck me as very intelligent. You'll find out how Lady Anaxandra escaped in the next chapter, what she and the General are plotting, and what will become of poor Riven in the next chapter.**

**And for those of you wondering, yes, Lady Anaxandra is quite the… ahem…slut/cold-hearted bitch. She has the General eating out of her hand, but doesn't care anymore for the poor besotted man than she does for the dirt underneath her feet.**

**I drew her character from some accounts of Helen of Troy, the infamous starter of the Trojan War. She was the most beautiful woman that ever lived, and thousands of men died fighting for her. Some stories say that she enjoyed being fought over, drew excitement from the fact that she could elicit such bloodshed, even between brothers.**


	4. Of Cold and Warm

**The Color of Betrayal: Story of a Boy Named Riven**

By: LadyNightSky

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**A/N: Thanks for the reviews :) Currently at twenty-nine, hoped for more, but oh well xD Wow, Riven's drawing some real sympathy.**

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Disclaimer: No, still not mines.

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Chapter Four: Of Cold and Warm

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The cool night air was like a slap in the face. He breathed out, and watched as a cloud of white was released into the air. His Mama and the General were both striding far ahead of him, his stubby legs no match for their fast gait. They were melting into the forest where Riven had spent his happiest moments. Somehow, it felt like sacrilege to him. Like the two adults' presence had sullied the very soul of the forest, made it unsafe for him to experience joy and peace here any longer.

The moon shone down mournfully on the three figures, casting them in a silvery glow. Frozen droplets of water clung to the pine needles underfoot and to the bark of the trees, shining like jewels when Riven caught them in the right light. The warm weather of the past few days was quickly melding into dull frost, like Mother Nature herself mourned for Riven's current predicament. It was an ominous sign.

He shivered, and pulled his cloak tighter around him. When he'd hurriedly pulled on his clothes earlier in the night, he hadn't thought he'd be journeying outside; as a result, he wore only his cloak over thin pants and a linen shirt. Lady Anaxandra and the General both wore fur-lined cloaks designed for winter wear, and didn't seem to noticed the cold at all as the talked quietly to each other.

Every once in a while, the General would turn his head to make sure Riven wasn't lagging behind, wasn't running back to the castle to inform everyone what was happening. His Mama never looked back.

_They shouldn't be worried about my alerting anyone,_ Riven thought dully_. It's not like I matter anymore. I don't belong anywhere, to anyone. I'm unwanted. _

They walked for what seemed like hours, Riven growing steadily colder underneath his scanty clothes. The forest was fast growing unfamiliar. The trees were no longer comforting and safe; now they grew thick and gnarled, their bark dark, looming over Riven, as if evil had touched them and left behind scars. He was starting to lag behind the two adults, his legs getting wary. He ignored the burning and pulling of his muscles, running a few steps so that he was right behind them. The forest didn't feel safe, and the hair on the back of his neck was pricking in vague fear.

Eventually the two adults stopped, and Riven, who wasn't paying attention, almost rammed into them. Steadying himself, he looked up, and inhaled sharply at what he saw.

They were standing on the edge of a sheer cliff, the trees suddenly falling away to reveal stark drops of dirt. Below them, the sea spread out, vast and churning, looking like black velvet in the night. Riven could smell the salt in the air, and the scent of fish. A port town, a mass of glittering lights, twinkled next to the roaring darkness of the ocean.

_It's much too close, _Riven thought. _It looks like the sea could sweep it up and leave behind a sandy beach in its place._

The General and the duchess were conferring in low voices, glancing at the sheer drop a few feet away. Riven scooted a bit closer to them, eyeing the cliff uneasily. How in the world would they get down that horrid piece of earth and rock?

The General suddenly lifted his head up, and nodded at the duchess, who nodded back. Claudio drew something out from under his cloak, a silvery, flashing disk. He depressed the small button at its center, and it immediately expanded, stopping at about five feet in diameter. It emitted a weak buzzing noise, and started to rise slowly into the air. The General stepped onto it then extended out an arm to help Riven's Mama up. He then glared at Riven.

"Well, get on, boy." He sneered. Riven scrambled onto the disk just as it started to float out of his grasp, and flipped himself over the edge of it. His eyes began to stream and water as the disk hurtled headlong down the cliff, biting back a scream as piles of rock and weeds flew by. The General held onto Riven with a painfully tight grip, and drew the duchess to him with his other arm.

They drooped dangerously close to the water, close enough for the salty spray to assault Riven as he slid close to the disk's edge. Desperately hanging on to the General's arm, he braced his arms against the disk, and prayed that he wouldn't fall into the water.

With a jerky, sharp movement, the disk flipped levelly, Riven landing squarely on his back. They zoomed across the water, keeping close to it, toward the mass of lights that was the port.

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The pier rose up in a stronghold of rotted wood, algae covering its lower poles. Riven could make out the shape of barnacles clinging to it as the persistent waves tried to wash them off. The unpleasant smell of rotting fish assaulted Riven's senses, and he wrinkled his nose in a desperate attempt to block it out.

The disk rose up to the top of the pier, sputtering and protesting, its surface vibrating, as if it was barely holding itself together after the long dive from the top of the cliff. Lady Anaxandra gracefully leapt off the disk onto the dark pier, landing without so much as a thump. The General landed with a little difficulty, swearing as he almost lost his balance. Riven stepped off last, landing with the same catlike grace his mother had. As his foot left the disk, it dropped out of the air, and into the sea, where it sparkled like a small jewel against the black water.

The three figures crept along the pier, hiding behind the lumps of benches and covered vendor carts that loomed in their path. Riven's teeth were chattering as the frigid ocean breezes whirled ruthlessly around him. His cloak had been soaked by the sea spray, which didn't help at all.

They soon stepped off the pier, and into the cover of the clumps of brush on the shore. The town was at most a half-mile away, and they ran swiftly, ignoring the debris buried in the thick sand that accosted their shoes. Riven panted, his legs already tiring. The sand faded into a rough, hewn stone walkway. Their footsteps were ringing conspicuously against the solid strength, and the General, cursing quietly, removed his shoes, motioning for his two companions to do the same.

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Riven braced himself against the warm concrete walls of the town. It was still heated from the sunrays that had battered it during the day, and felt impossibly good to Riven's shivering frame. The town smelled of the same odor that had lingered around the pier, an unpleasant fishy scent that, though not as strong, still made one wrinkle their nose.

The General and the duchess were motioning impatiently for him to follow them into the town. As they entered through the open gateway, Riven gazed around him in astonishment. _How could people actually live in these…things?_ He wondered. The only buildings in sight were crude dwellings built out of a motley collection of straws, mud, driftwood, and stone. There were no windows, but holes in the walls covered in thin white fabric. One central street of packed dirt and vegetation ran down the entire length of the village, with smaller, foot worn paths branching off occasionally. Carts full of fruits, vegetables, and fish lined the streets, strapped to some of the huts. The entire place was deserted, though Riven could hear the sounds of thunderous snoring breezing out from the window holes.

Light came from oil lamps placed upon tall poles. They cast a yellowish, dim glow upon the streets, which the two adults and Riven easily avoided.

As he picked his way over a pile of fish bones left on the side of the street, Riven heard the General murmuring to his Mama.

"…this town has been hit hard by our fool king's lavish spending of the royal treasury. Because of him, the once grand houses and flourishing trade here have faded into near-nonexistence. Many of the people of Olympas are getting tired of our moronic Majesty, and are becoming restless. One of the cases I had was to search out and stop some of the uprisings. Fatalis has been trying to keep them secret, but most of the court know of them now. If we pose as rebels, we should be offered housing and food by the commoners."

Lady Anaxandra nodded thoughtfully. "That is a good strategy, milord, until we can leave this realm far behind."

The General and Riven both wore matching expressions of surprise.

"L-Leave this realm behind?" the General stuttered. "But, my dove-,"

The duchess placed a delicate finger on the General's lips. "It will be better that way. We can start anew. Perhaps even a family…?" Her voice was soft and wheedling.

The General nodded dumbly. "I suppose so then. A family! Think of it…we shall name a boy Claudio, of course, and a girl Anaxandra…"

Riven felt a stab go through his heart. His mother couldn't possibly want to replace him and Reya, could she? Even after all that had happened to him, it had never occurred to him that she and the General would have…children. _Well, if they get married, I guess it's expected of them to have children, _Riven thought numbly. _I shouldn't be so surprised, it will just hurt more. If I just pretend it doesn't matter, then I won't be hurt at all._

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The duchess pulled her hood over the top half of her face, obscuring her startling violet eyes, which would at once give her away. She stood on the makeshift doorstep of one of the larger huts, preparing to fool the owners into letting her and the General stay overnight.

Riven hadn't overheard anything about where he would stay during the night, and he was getting panicky. His mother wouldn't possibly leave him out here, would she? _There isn't anything she wouldn't do anymore, _a little voice in his head told Riven. _She simply no longer cares._

He watched in an oddly removed fashion as a large, beefy man opened the simple wooden door. Surprise washed over his face at the pale, ethereal woman on his threshold. His mother spoke in a lilting, beguiling tone, and the man's face softened immediately. She motioned behind her, to the General. The man looked slightly disappointed to see a man accompanying this beautiful lady, but led them both inside the house, closing the door behind them.

Riven stood in the alley between the man's house and its neighbor, eyes glazed, thinking of nothing. The night grew darker, and the oil lamps flickered. A chill wind swept through the town, but Riven felt nothing. The General hurriedly appeared, throwing a pillow and blanket at the little boy before going back inside. Still, Riven did nothing.

He stood for a long while, then mechanically grabbed the blanket and pillow, arranging them on the ground. He curled up within them like a cat, and stared at the burgeoning moon overhead.

_How could this get any worse?_

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**A/N: GAH! Riven's jinxed it! This should be fun… Anyways, in this chapter, you got to see how Riven's defense mechanism started. He just pretends like whatever is bothering him doesn't matter. Voila! Eh, the site's still broken, so I'm not receiving review alerts "/ Sad.**


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